


A New Time

by MissJeeves



Series: Timely [8]
Category: Justified
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Anal Sex, Bad Boyd, Canon-Typical Violence, Families of Choice, Frottage, Gen, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 11:56:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1982064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissJeeves/pseuds/MissJeeves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raylan gets out of Harlan, and more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Time

Night falls and Boyd Crowder still hasn’t been arrested. By now he has to know his father and most of his henchmen are locked up, his cousin’s hospitalized with Tim’s bullet in his spine, and his sex-drugs-guns emporium is at least partially dismantled. And he might know Raylan gave a near 8-hour monologue on Boyd’s crimes and misdemeanors to federal agents.

He’s probably pretty fucking pissed. And Tim finds that really frightening.

Under normal circumstances, Raylan would probably get put in lock-up on some trumped up charges and that would serve as protective custody. In theory, Loretta should be sent to a children’s group home, but given her record of ditching those, she almost certainly would get locked up, too, at a juvenile facility. Now, Tim thinks she kind of deserves that, because he’s mean.

But, instead of Tim going on his lonesome to his third protective custody location, he gets some company. Rachel does some serious string-pulling, because she manages to get Tim, Loretta, _and_ Raylan housed together.

She argues that Tim needs protection, too, and Loretta’s less likely to make a break for it because of her relationships with Raylan and Tim, respectively. Tim’s not sure that’s true, given that he’s going to yell at her a lot and he bets Raylan will, too.

Rachel maybe just straight up lies about Raylan. She definitely doesn’t mention his real relationship with Tim. He has no idea how she did it, but he’s grateful.

They go to a new safehouse, a three level townhouse in a ritzy part of Lexington. A neighborhood where an angry Boyd Crowder in a pickup truck with a rocket launcher will definitely stand out.

Rachel doesn’t have much to say, once her three charges are lined up together in the living room. Raylan looks deeply uncomfortable and Loretta’s probably thinking about fencing the flat-screen TV. The sole sign of normalcy is Shredder already attacking the couch.

“I will be outside the front door all night,” Rachel says. “There are agents at the back and down the street.”

“Thanks,” Tim says.

“Any one of you tries to leave, I’m shooting you in an extremity,” she continues, humorless.

Raylan and Loretta glance at each other, apparently both assuming she’s talking about the other.

“Good night,” she says, heading out to her post.

~

Tim looks about as lost as Raylan feels. Of all the scenarios that could have happened, ending up in a home in suburbia together was not on his list.

“I’m gonna take a piss,” Tim says. “Don’t test Rachel. She will shoot.”

Raylan’s not sure who that’s aimed at. He makes an innocent face, while Loretta ignores the comment entirely. She walks over to where the cat’s demolishing the sofa, picks it up, and drops on to a cushion.

He follows her lead, showing he can be obedient, too, and sits next to her.

“What the hell did you do with Dewey Crowe?” he asks.

Loretta barely glances at him. “Tim already yelled,” she says. “I think I might be grounded?”

“Tim told me he didn’t know what you did, just that it was incredibly fucking stupid.”

This makes her stop cuddling the cat. “Did you like living at Audrey’s with Boyd beating the shit out of you?” She makes an outraged face. “He’s the one who put Tim in the hospital, you know.”

“I know,” Raylan begins. “Just tell me, Dewey Crowe?”

Loretta shrugs. “I called some of the girls I used to sell to, there. Asked for a regular client who could do a job for me and wouldn’t rat us out. They gave me his number and I texted him the plan.”

“They didn’t mention Dewey is slightly less intelligent than a hamster?” Raylan asks.

“No,” she admits. “He was just supposed to take you out on a date somewhere, meet me, money changes hands, he gets some weed, we split.”

“He tried to buy me as a sex slave,” Raylan informs her. “Where’d you get ten thousand dollars?”

“I’m a businesswoman,” Loretta says, smiling.

“Bullshit.”

“You saved me from the pervert,” she continues. “I saved you from Boyd. We’re even.”

“Yeah,” Raylan says. “Okay.”

Loretta extends her hand, the other still petting the cat. Raylan reaches out and shakes it in a firm grip, then releases.

“Just never do that shit again,” he says.

“Tell Tim to chill?” she asks, hopefully.

“My kid ran into Harlan, employed Dewey Crowe to do _anything_ , didn’t know how a stun gun worked, and had ten thousand dollars in drug money to throw around, I would not chill for a very long time,” Raylan says.

“My kid saved my boyfriend from Boyd Crowder, I wouldn’t care how she did it, and I would say thank you,” she retorts. “And I’m not his kid.”

“Does he know that?” he asks.

Loretta waves him off, which makes him frown. Raylan starts telling her exactly what she deserves for pulling that epic bullshit in Harlan.

Tim comes out of the bathroom at that point, face twisted. Loretta, resolutely unafraid and a tattletale, immediately points at Raylan.

“You hear all of that through the door?” Raylan asks.

Tim nods, slanting his eyes at Loretta. “You don’t know how a stun gun works?”

“I get it,” she says. “Real gun next time.”

“Also don’t hire the stupidest shitkicker to ever live,” Raylan adds.

Tim looks like he’s going to start yelling, too, so Loretta hops up. Claiming fatigue, she vanishes upstairs with the cat.

“Don’t thank her,” Raylan says, when she’s gone. “It was all bad and if your partner hadn’t shown up when she did, it would have been worse.”

“Loretta called me,” Tim says. “At some point, when it went worse.”

Raylan inclines his head, surprised she had that sense.

“Stupidest shitkicker to ever live hurt you?” Tim asks. “Rachel said you were cuffed to the bed.”

“That was so I wouldn’t hurt him,” Raylan assures him, and Tim looks relieved. “Don’t think I like owing a teenage dumbass,” he continues.

“Sounded like you were even,” Tim says. “You saved her from a pervert, she saved you from one, too.”

Raylan glances at him, curious. “You find out about that?”

“Doesn’t matter if there’s Candid Camera and you were wearing a name tag,” Tim says. “If you acted to protect a minor from a sex offender.”

“Yeah, huh,” Raylan says. “But I didn’t spend ten thousand dollars on her.”

~

Loretta has claimed the bedroom on the top floor. Either she’s giving them privacy or she’s using the roof-access to make a break for it.

They absolutely should not have sex in protective custody. They shouldn’t even sleep in the same bedroom. If Tim were smart, he’d be downstairs with Rachel acting like he’s working the case.

But Raylan grabs at Tim’s hand when he turns his body like he’s going to walk away from him.

“I gotta check on her,” Tim says, eyes upwards.

“Where’s she gonna go?” Raylan asks.

“Where’d she get ten thousand dollars?” he returns.

“Which room you sleeping in?” Raylan asks Tim’s back.

Tim doesn’t turn around on the stairs. “Which room you sleeping in?” he answers, and he doesn’t have to look to know Raylan’s smiling.

Thankfully, Loretta is safely tucked away. She calls an answer to Tim’s courtesy knock and he opens the door to her darkened room.

“Hey,” he says.

Loretta sits up on her elbows in bed. Tim finds the lamp on her nightstand and turns it on.

She squints at him. “What?” she asks.

“Wanted to make sure you didn’t abscond into the night again,” he says.

“I think the windows are nailed shut,” she tells him. He arches an eyebrow. “I just wanted some fresh air.”

Tim takes a seat on the edge of her bed.

“Well, this is a safehouse,” he says. “It’s designed to keep a psychotic Boyd Crowder from getting in here and killing you.”

“Boyd never even saw me,” Loretta says, dismissively.

“Oh, he did,” Tim tells her. “Before your little idiot plan. He had one of his equally violent employees stalk you in Lexington, when you were with me, and at your foster home. And sent me the video.”

Loretta looks a little confused. “Why?” she asks.

“It was part of him threatening everyone I care about,” Tim says. “Rachel was on there, too. I’m lucky he doesn’t know I have a cat.”

“Why?” she says, again.

“I’m guessing he thought I’d work pretty damn hard to destroy the federal government’s cases against him if he had collateral.”

“You’re too uptight for that,” Loretta says.

“Upright,” he corrects.

“No, I meant what I said.” She ducks down when he scowls at her.

“That’s why you’re here,” he continues. “You can’t go back to your foster home.”

“Oh.” She pauses. “Ever?”

“Ever,” he confirms. “After tonight, he definitely wants to kill me and you…”

“And Raylan,” she adds.

“Tomorrow I’m going to tell them it was Boyd who attacked me and ask for the Witness Protection Program for all of us,” he continues.

“All of us?” she says.

“Right,” he says. “If that’s okay with you.”

Loretta pretends not to understand. “So I’d go to foster care, someplace else?”

“No, you’d stay with me.” He taps the bedspread. “Alison gave me the papers and I signed them.”

“That mean when I call you for help, you won’t send your partner?” Evidently she’s been holding that against him.

“If you run back to Harlan to kill someone for a third time,” Tim says. “You’re on your own.”

“I didn’t kill anyone,” she says. Then, “It was warranted.”

Tim sighs, puts his head in his hands.

“You seem really excited,” Loretta says, sarcastically.

“I’d be more excited,” Tim says, “or at least less paranoid about needing to start your inevitable bail fund, if I knew what you were up to that got you ten thousand dollars to buy Raylan.”

“You don’t think he’s worth that?”

He scowls at her. “Yeah, see, that’s much less funny when I’m your legal guardian.”

Loretta tries not to smirk, fails.

“It could complicate Witsec,” he says. “So, I need you to tell me.”

For a second, he thinks she’s not going to tell him. And if it came from the Crowders, even indirectly, it really could fuck up Witsec.

“Mags Bennett,” she says, after a moment.

He stares at her. “She – The,” he begins.

“Yeah,” Loretta interrupts. “Her estate. She left me it...and a lot more. I actually valued Raylan at $25,000.”

“Seems a little high,” he says, and she smiles.

“Is that gonna be okay?” she asks.

“Yeah, it should be.”

“Okay, then.”

He sits there, trying to process that. Tim had sincerely been expecting to hear something much worse and much more criminal.

“If it’s not, you can take the money,” she continues. “I don’t even want it.”

“That doesn’t sound like you.”

“I can earn more.” She sticks out her chin. “I don’t want nothing from that woman, it don’t make up for what she took.”

Tim reaches out and sympathetically pets her hair. She accepts it for a second, then tries to duck away.

“I think you know more about having a cat than a kid,” she tells him.

“It’s good you know that ahead of time.”

He pets her hair one more time, then stands up.

“Good night,” he says, turning off the light and walking towards the door.

“What about Raylan?” her voice follows him in the dark.

“You bought him.” He slips out the door. “No returns.”

~

“She still there?” Raylan asks, when Tim returns from upstairs.

He’s sacked out on the bed, a nice king-size mattress bigger than Tim’s own. He took his shirt off, but left his pants in case they ended up chasing Loretta out into the night.

“Yup,” Tim confirms.

He stands there for a second, taking in the sight of Raylan lounging before him.

“You want to come a little closer?” Raylan invites.

Tim takes a step, then stops.

“Rachel bursts in here, it’s not gonna be good for us,” he says, frowning.

“I get the impression Rachel’s surprisingly knowledgeable and open-minded,” Raylan tells him, going for reassuring.

“I told her,” Tim says. “Or she figured it out.”

“Kept your secret?” Raylan asks.

“Only because Boyd sent me footage of what he was doing to you,” Tim says, bluntly. “She really didn’t like you before that.”

“Totally worth it,” Raylan says, awkwardly.

He really wishes no one saw that, especially Tim.

But it brings Tim across the room and into the bed. He’s already on top of Raylan, his fingers desperately digging into his skin, before his brain re-engages. It’s like he wants to erase every memory Raylan has of Boyd’s awful touch with that of Tim’s hands on him. Raylan is okay with that.

“Anyone who’s _not_ Rachel comes in,” he says, lips against Raylan’s cheek.

“Fuck ‘em,” Raylan says, holding on tightly.

Tim pulls away, but it’s only so he can peel his shirt off. Raylan watches, helps a little, but mostly just presses his palms against Tim’s warm skin.

Tim turns to throw his shirt on the floor. Raylan catches a glimpse of the red, twisted skin on his upper back.

“Hey.” Raylan reaches out, touches the scar gingerly.

Tim halts, half-turned, lets Raylan explore it. He doesn’t jerk away. Raylan’s fingers dip lower, find paler, flatter scars peeking out the waistband of Tim’s jeans. He slides his hand around his ribs, reaching his fly and flicking it open. Raylan deftly slides the zipper down.

Tim stays still, until it’s helpful for him to lift his hips so his jeans can come off. Raylan’s hands are already on his ass, shoving his briefs down.

“It’s not so bad,” Tim says, as Raylan traces the scars from the beating.

“I don’t know how he found you,” Raylan says. “I’m sorry.”

Tim shrugs, turns so he’s facing him and the scars are hidden again. “Might have been all the sex we were having.”

He doesn’t blame Raylan. Aside from his words, his dick certainly isn’t holding any grudges.

Raylan reaches for it, then pauses. He feels like he should ask permission, make sure Tim doesn’t have invisible scars from the attack.

“You okay with this?” he asks.

“You not touching me?” Tim says. “Not okay with that at all.”

“I mean…”

“I’m going to be very particular about the placement of couches in the future,” Tim tells him, drawing close until their lips are almost touching. “That’s about it. Why are you still wearing your pants?”

They don’t have sex immediately. Raylan shucks his jeans and briefs, then pulls Tim against him. They’re face to face, chest to chest. Tim’s dick is thick and hot against Raylan’s own erection. He enjoys the feel of Tim’s body against his, his tongue delving deep in to Tim’s mouth. So they just kiss for a while, Raylan caressing his chest, focusing on Tim’s nipples until they’re hard beneath his fingers.

Impatiently, Tim directs one of his hands downwards. Raylan’s not sure how, but Tim positions himself such that their cocks are together, stroked in concert. The sensation makes Raylan’s hips snap uncontrollably, but Tim manages to keep everything aligned. It’s hot and slick and perfect.

Tim edges his teeth against Raylan’s nipple, and Raylan whites out. He splashes his orgasm across his hand, Tim’s, and both their bellies.

They don’t have any lube. Tim carefully coats himself in Raylan’s own come, presses some of it inside Raylan with long probing fingers.

Raylan wants to feel Tim’s weight on him, tonight. He rolls to his hands and knees, and Tim follows.

Penetration is deep and quick. Tim pants into Raylan neck, trying to hold it together. He stills inside him, thick and trembling.

Tim’s hands grip Raylan’s hips so hard he’s going to have bruises.

“Fuck me,” Raylan orders, turning his head so Tim can kiss him. Tim obeys on both counts, filling his mouth with his tongue and driving his hips forward.

At some point, he falls off his knees, ending up sideways with his legs sprawled open. He’s half-hard again, and Tim pumps him rhythmically in time with his thrusts. The fucking becomes harder and erratic, and Raylan puts one of Tim’s hands over his own mouth to muffle his appreciative response.

Tim orgasms, a hot rush inside him, and they both collapse into the bedspread. Raylan stirs only to let Tim slip free, then rolls so they’re face to face but he’s still encompassed in Tim’s arms.

They’re both soaked in sweat and sticky from sex, but neither one moves.

~

In the morning, Tim is still kind of damp. He has dried itchy spots in unpleasant places, and given the way Raylan is scratching at himself, he’s in the same shape.

“Dibs on the shower,” Raylan says, and Tim assents because he’s not the one who slept in the wet spot.

They should also get clean and dressed before any law enforcement agents come to retrieve them for the day. Covered in each other’s semen and the hicky Tim can feel on his chest is not a good look for the U.S. Marshals to see.

“You don’t want to join me?” Raylans asks, apparently insatiable.

“I do,” Tim says. “But I make terrible decisions and you just encourage me.”

Raylan makes a pouty face.

“Raincheck,” Tim promises.

Alone, Raylan showers quickly. He pops out of the bathroom after only ten minutes, hair wet and naked.

“Put on a towel,” Tim begs, because he has only so much self control.

Raylan shaves while Tim washes away the remnants of their night together. All that remains when he’s done is the red mark in the shape of Raylan’s mouth near one of his nipples.

“Sorry,” Raylan apologizes, when he sees Tim peering at it in the mirror.

Tim shrugs. “I kind of like it,” he says, and goes to get dressed before he is any more tempted to get another.

He waits until they’re both wearing shirts, so that’s not as big a risk.

And then he and Raylan sort of make out on the bed, like teenagers. It’s ridiculous, but Tim can’t stop.

Eventually, he takes his mouth off Raylan’s, inhaling badly needed air.

“I’m going to tell them about Boyd and ask for Witsec,” he says, half in to Raylan’s neck.

“Good,” Raylan says.

“For us and Loretta,” Tim adds.

Raylan pulls back and raises an eyebrow. “Huh,” he says.

“Are you okay with that?” Tim asks, grappling Raylan close again.

“What are you asking me?” Raylan pulls back again, props himself up on one arm.

“I’m telling you, if I’m her legal guardian, you can’t be trying to get weed off her.”

Raylan blinks at him, then it dawns on him. “You saw my phone?” Tim nods. “I was trying to get her to show so I could turn her in.” He pauses. “I didn’t know about her stupid plan with Dewey Crowe.”

“Oh,” Tim says. “Well, good.”

“I won’t smoke pot with your kid,” Raylan promises. He looks sideways at Tim.

“That’s how you get kicked out of Witsec.,” Tim says. “Which would be bad.”

“Yeah, got that.”

“Also,” Tim adds. “If we met in a bar, I’d divulge that I have a kid.”

“We did meet in a bar,” Raylan retorts. “And, as I recall, I brought you the kid-“

Since they’ve come to the unspoken agreement that they’re going into Witsec together, Tim rolls a little, grabs Raylan by the back of the head before he can keep talking, and pulls him in for more kissing.

~

Rachel sends a text warning of the U.S. Marshals’ imminent arrival at the safehouse. The actual message is brief, but Tim reads between the lines that she would like him to be fully dressed and not having sex with Raylan Givens when they come in.

He’s not. They’re in the kitchen, with Loretta, exploring the limited breakfast options. His lips might be a little swollen, but that’s it.

“Hey,” Tim says, when Rachel and some LPD unis walk in. He takes one look at her face and almost drops his cereal box. “What happened?”

Rachel’s expression stays grave. She heaves a breath. “Boyd Crowder blew up the federal court house building last night.”

Tim stares at her. “What?”

“Well, someone who sounds a hell of a lot like him evacuated the cleaning crew, lined the Marshal’s office with emulex and …”

“Shit.” Tim is almost too stunned to speak.

“Anyone hurt?” Raylan asks.

Rachel glances at him, seems both surprised and pleased to hear the question.

“He shot the night guard. And there are some firefighters in the hospital this morning, but they’ll make it.”

Raylan nods, awkwardly.

“Tim,” Rachel says, sharply. “Time’s up.”

“I need to speak to Art,” he says.

“Yeah,” she says. “You do.”

~

Tim confesses everything. Well. Most everything. He identifies Boyd as his attacker that night. Loretta makes a useful excuse for the stuff he’d rather not explain. Tim claims Boyd threatened her, and seemed to make good on that promise the night she ran off into Harlan to rescue Raylan.

Raylan, in the paperwork, is just an unregistered CI.

He suspects Art deduces otherwise, but isn’t enough of a dick to press it. Or, he’s distracted by the fact that Boyd fucking burned down their office last night. They have to meet in a Lexington police station, with Rachel babysitting Loretta in one room while Raylan gets interviewed for hours again in another.

Tim gives his statement to three different agencies. It really doesn’t matter if they discover Tim and Raylan’s relationship. Most of Boyd’s crimes – legion told by Raylan – have nothing to do with it.

It’s abundantly clear to everyone that he has to get out of Kentucky, immediately, before Boyd Crowder finds the Lexington safehouse and blows that up, too.

Tim tells the truth to the Witsec Marshals. It’s awkward, because he knows them professionally and admitting his relationship with Raylan is…not professional. More along the lines of stupid and possibly insane.

Fortunately, the Witsec team is professional. All they care about is he has the legal rights over Loretta and that a U.S. Attorney will vouch for Raylan’s entry into the program.

“They aren’t being dicks,” Raylan says, when the Marshals step out, clearly surprised.

“They’ll do it after we get handed off,” Tim says, flatly. “In the meantime, it’s actually making their jobs easier.”

Raylan looks confused.

“Witnesses are way more cooperative if their loved ones are in the program,” Tim tells him. “Otherwise, they break the rules and try to keep contact, and everything goes to shit.”

“Would you break the rules?” Raylan asks.

“Not a big fan of emulex,” Tim says, seriously, in case Raylan is having second thoughts.

Endangering himself is one thing, but between the personal experience Tim has with an angry Boyd Crowder, the fact that his former workplace is in ashes, and that he’s now responsible for a teenage girl…

“I asked them to send my Aunt Helen a note,” Raylan says. “That I got out of Harlan.” He nods. “Only tie I have to sever.”

“I don’t have none,” Loretta says. She pauses. “You’d break the rules so hard.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Raylan denies.

“Not you.” She smirks. “Tim.”

“Well, I don’t have to,” he says.

~

The Marshal Service drives them out of Kentucky less than 24 hours after Crowder introduced explosives to the situation.

Tim says goodbye to Rachel. Crowder threatened her, too, and part of him would like her to leave as well. But she can’t be collateral if Tim knows nothing about her, and they all agree Boyd’s interest in her will probably wane. Raylan assures him that Boyd’s definitely not focused on her. Also, she’s really pissed off and wants to arrest Crowder, or shoot him, and refuses to go anywhere. Her career isn’t compromised the way Tim’s is. Raylan finds Rachel scary and tells Tim she’ll be fine.

“This what you wanted?” Rachel asks, when they take a moment away from the army of law enforcement tasked with protecting them all from Crowder.

She sounds genuinely curious, not judgmental. Seeing with her own eyes what was happening to Raylan has softened her, as has meeting the man himself. He’s not whatever she imagined.

And this isn’t what Tim imagined, either. He kind of thought Raylan might cost him his job, but not under these circumstances. More along the lines of disgraced, homeless, and alone.

Tim glances at the armored van where Loretta and Raylan are waiting for him in the back. Based on Raylan’s narrowed expression and Loretta’s obnoxious hand gestures, they are definitely giving each other shit over something. It’s nice that they have Harlan in common, he figures, though he can only hope that leaving it will be an improvement for everybody.

“I wanted more Crowders in body bags,” he answers Rachel’s question, honestly.

Rachel smiles in agreement, then pulls him in for a big, prolonged hug.

~

They don’t know where they’re going yet, but the first stop is another safehouse in rural Tennessee. The house is small and inconspicuous, a brick two-level that might have been a hunting lodge in another life.

Surprisingly, their escorts give them a lot of privacy. It’s just Tim, Raylan, Loretta, and the cat in the house.

“Where do you think they’ll put us?” Raylan asks, looking out the window at the miles of nothing surrounding the home. At least they’d see Boyd coming.

“I don’t know,” Tim says. “I heard talk of Florida, but that won’t work.”

“Why?” Raylan asks.

“Gay adoption is illegal there,” Tim tells him.

“Oh.” Raylan tilts his head. “If they think my intentions are to adopt you, they are sorely mistaken.”

Tim smiles at him, would pull him in for a kiss, if the person he’s actually talking about wasn’t sitting on the sofa trying futilely to find a television channel coming in clear.

“Do I get a say?” Loretta asks, abandoning the remote.

“No,” Tim tells her. “But if you’re not adopted, they will take you away the first time you sell drugs in a school zone.”

“Then we could get a new kid,” Raylan says, cheerfully. “A better kid.”

Loretta glares at him.

“Actually, you have to find a new profession,” Tim says. “We all do.”

“You can’t be a hooker anymore,” Loretta says, meanly.

“Nope,” Raylan says, and he sounds legitimately thrilled.

“I’m thinking he’s going to be a professional teenage drug dealer wrangler,” Tim continues. He’s going to need all the help he can get. Loretta rolls her eyes at him.

“We get new names, too, right?” Raylan asks.

“Eventually,” Tim says.

“Can I pick hers?” Raylan goes.

“No,” Loretta says.

“I already have one in mind,” Tim tells them both.

“No,” she says again. “Is it Mary Jane?”

“Maybe,” Tim says, while Raylan cracks up.

“Original,” Loretta mutters. “He came up with that at the police station, you know.”

“Great minds,” he says, and Raylan grins.

Fed up, Loretta stands up. “I’m going to bed,” she says. “Call me if Boyd Crowder shows up, because I’m the only one here that stood up to him and won.”

She flounces upstairs and Tim watches her go.

“You know,” he says. “I do not like that she is right about that.”

“Me either,” Raylan says. “I don’t think I want that job, actually.”

“Tough shit,” Tim tells him. “I’m not doing it by myself.”

But Raylan has lost interest in arguing, and now wants to make out on the couch.

“Hey,” Raylan says, after Tim has him pressed flat on his back into the cushion but hasn’t followed him down. Tim gestures upstairs, like he doesn’t want to stop, but thinks they can do Loretta the decency of moving some place private. He leans against the couch back, looking over to see the damage Shredder’s managed to do in the short time they’ve been here.

“I’ve had that cat like a year,” he says, “and can’t get her to stop doing that.”

“Colorado,” Raylan says, staying flat where he is. “If weed is legal, she’ll get in less trouble.”

“Less?”

“Let’s be optimistic.” Raylan put one hand on his thigh, but not in a seductive way. Tim sighs but it kind of sounds like a laugh, and he continues.

“Just so you know, my good parent role model was the one that hid the kid from the drunken one.” Raylan goes for total honesty. “The bad one liked to get drunk and chase the kid around with a belt.”

Tim squints at him, playing dumb. “You gonna do that to her?”

“I kind of wanted to, yesterday, when I was cuffed to Dewey Crowe’s bed, and I didn’t need to be drunk.”

For some reason, that makes Tim laugh. “Our parents shared some unpleasant hobbies,” he says. He squints again. “And yesterday, she kind of deserved it.”

Raylan laughs in agreement.

“I couldn’t get her to promise not to steal a firearm and run off with it for a third time,” Tim warns him.

“Well, shit,” Raylan says.

Tim strokes his hair as he speaks, evidently refusing to understand what he’s being told about Raylan’s total inadequacy with kids, particularly the difficult one upstairs.

“Well, I’d say we both know what not to do,” Tim says. “Maybe we can remind each other sometimes.” He pauses. “And lock up our guns.”

Raylan nods into Tim’s hand, and a thought pops into his head. “You know, she’s wrong. If she hadn’t pulled that shit with Dewey Crowe, I bet Boyd would have been there during the raid. He and Ava were probably gone to get me, and took off when they saw your partner.”

“You want to go tell her she’s wrong?” Tim asks.

Raylan reaches out and grabs Tim by the collar, pulling him down towards his face.

“Definitely, just…later,” he says, and starts kissing him some more.

~

Bedtime reading consists of the mountain of paperwork given to them by the U.S. Marshals. Tim’s vaguely familiar with it, on a professional basis. But it’s never applied to him. And he’s more than a little intimidated by all the rules and regulations it contains, not so much for him, but for the guy who’s spent his life in Harlan and what could lovingly be called anarchy.

But Raylan doesn’t comment on anything, doesn’t even look worried at all.

“It’s actually pretty simple,” Tim tries to reassure him, anyway. “New names, a stipend at first, look for a job.”

Raylan nods. “What are you going to be when you grow up?”

“I don’t know,” Tim says, honestly. “Maybe go to school.”

“Book learnin’. Fancy,” Raylan drawls as best he can.

Tim shuffles the papers back together. “When they catch Boyd, we’ll have to come testify. And they’ll probably use you against Bo Crowder, too.”

“It’s not dependent on conviction, right?” Raylan asks, and he sounds entirely too serious.

“No,” Tim says. He waits. “Why?” Raylan shrugs. “What do you think is going to happen?”

“Honestly?”

“I prefer that,” he says. “Please.”

Raylan leans back against the pillow. “You know what usually happens in court cases against the Crowders?”

“Witnesses get killed.” Tim answers, immediately. That’s why they’re here.

“Judges get bought,” Raylan adds. “Evidence gets dismissed. Shit happens.”

“Not this time,” Tim says.

Raylan doesn’t look convinced. “It doesn’t matter,” he says.

“How’s that?”

It’s hard to want to argue when Raylan reaches across the bed and finds Tim’s hand.

“I’m out. We’re out of Kentucky. He won’t follow us.”

“Won’t try?” Tim asks.

“He’s got to destroy the case against Bo and rebuild his business,” Raylan says.

“He’s a fugitive.”

Raylan looks at him like that’s no obstacle.

~

Predictably, Tim doesn’t like hearing the reality that Boyd Crowder is never going to see the inside of a jail cell, or if he does, it’ll be for a preciously short time. He doesn’t really argue the point with Raylan, but it’s obvious he’s pissed off. Raylan’s of the opinion that as long as Boyd isn’t able to fuck with them anymore, he no longer cares.

Tim is still pouty about it, enough that he doesn’t invite Raylan along when he goes to take a shower. Raylan would have declined, anyway, since the size of the shower stall dates to some strange era that didn’t envision two men trying to have sex in it.

He also has some business to attend to that probably needs to happen soon and outside of Tim’s presence.

Raylan waits until he hears the water switch on, then slips out of bed and bounds down the hall to the bedroom claimed by Loretta. It’s not that late, but the light is off like she’s sleeping.

He raps lightly on the door then pushes it open before she responds. And before she can hide her phone, because she’s lying in bed with the thing on the pillow, illuminating her face like a spotlight in the darkness.

“Hey,” Loretta says, sharply.

“Good,” Raylan says. “I don’t have to ask and you don’t have to lie about it. Give it.”

Loretta frowns and holds on to it possessively. “How did you know?” she asks.

“They didn’t strip search you,” he says. “And Tim is naïve and believes the best in people.”

Annoyed, she sits up and reluctantly hands it over.

“Thank you,” Raylan says.

“What are you going to do with it?” she asks.

“None of your business.”

She looks suspicious. “I’ll tell Tim.”

“Tell Tim you’re already breaking the rules?” He can threaten her, too. She scowls at him. “I’ll tell Tim. He’ll get pissed at me. Say “Thanks,” Loretta.”

“I liked you better when you were a hooker,” she mutters. “You were a lot nicer.”

“I’m a dick,” he agrees. “Get used to it.”

He leaves her pouting in the dark, shutting the door to the bedroom on his way out. Ideally, Raylan could go outside to make his call, but the U.S. Marshals guarding them would definitely catch him. That’s not who he wants.

Instead, he goes to the large but empty closet in his and Tim’s bedroom. Tim is still in the shower.

Raylan considers his actions for a few seconds, then makes the call.

It rings a couple of times before picking up.

“Who is this?” Boyd asks, sounding all kinds of dangerous.

And usually, that would make Raylan shrink back with caution, make him have to plan his day – hell, his life – around not getting beaten and brutalized because that’s what Boyd thinks he’s there for.

“Sorry,” Raylan says. “Did I wake you?”

There’s a hard pause on the other end. “Raylan,” Boyd says, voice icy.

“Boyd,” he replies, staying pleasant.

“And how many of your new police friends?” Boyd prompts.

“Just me,” he says. “They didn’t actually like me very much.”

“Not what I heard.”

“What you should have heard,” Raylan corrects, “Is the DEA had shit on you that nothing to do with me, ‘til you decided to attack a U.S. Marshal and threaten an innocent little girl.”

“And you kept your mouth shut,” Boyd says, with disbelief.

“No, because you decided to attack a U.S. Marshal and threaten an innocent little girl,” Raylan repeats. “And you sold me to Dewey Crowe, remember that?”

There’s angry silence on the other end.

“Yeah, I said a lot,” Raylan continues. “Multiple life sentences in federal prison. A lot.”

“And you’re calling to tell me this why?” Boyd is bristling mad.

“Because I didn’t tell them everything,” he says. “I didn’t tell them where you bank.”

“And this omission is out of the goodness of your heart?” He’s still angry, but now he sounds more suspicious.

“Not at all,” Raylan says. “I want you to leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave Tim alone. Leave the fucking kid alone.”

“I get the unsettling feeling that I am being threatened,” Boyd says.

“I get one whiff of you chasing us,” Raylan replies. “I’ll tell them who your banker is and all that money will belong to the federal government. Do you think you can keep Ava in the lifestyle she’s accustomed to without it?”

“Ava is of the opinion I should have blown your head off when I had the chance,” Boyd spits at him.

“Oh, say hello to her for me. Miss her…so much.” And Raylan could actually spend days on the phone taunting her, for how much he never could before.

Boyd all but growls at him, and it’s so strange for that to happen without the usual violence.

“But speaking of blowing heads off, Boyd…if I ever see you again, that’s what’s gonna happen.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Raylan says. “So take the offer. Leave us alone, keep your piggy bank.”

And that’s when Tim, wrapped in a towel, opens the closet door and glares at him.

~

Raylan cuts the call, but not before Tim hears the tinny sound of a voice on the other end.

“Hey,” Raylan says.

Tim reaches out and snatches the phone out of his hand, confiscating it exactly how he would if he were here in an official capacity and Raylan was his ward. He points at the bed and Raylan obeys, but not without a glance at Tim that suggests his sudden U.S. Marshal body language is noticed and not appreciated.

“You don’t have to look so betrayed,” Raylan says, dropping to a seat at the foot of the bed.

“This is not me looking betrayed, this is me looking pissed.” Tim moves on. “Where did you get the phone? I know they searched you.”

“The little cherub down the hall,” he answers, immediately. “They didn’t search her, I guess.”

Tim scrolls through the phone. “Who’d you call?”

He doesn’t recognize the number. But there are very, very few people he knows Raylan would call and most of them are currently in this house.

“Boyd,” Raylan says.

Tim can feel his expression fall, and he puts one hand over his face.

“Did you not read the rules?” he asks. “Don’t call the guy you’re testifying against…that was in there.”

“I had something to tell him.” Raylan is so casual and matter of fact, Tim wants to deck him. He looks up at Tim. “Can you calm down?”

“What?” Tim demands. “And no.”

“I had to give him motivation not to follow us,” Raylan says.

“And how would you do that?”

Raylan pauses. “Well, I threatened to shoot him in the head.” He makes eye contact with Tim. “You could get in on that.”

“What else.” Tim makes it a statement.

“I don’t think that I should tell you that,” Raylan says, after a moment.

Tim spreads his arms out in confusion.

“I can’t tell if you’re asking me as a U.S. Marshal,” Raylan continues. “Or as the other guy Boyd wants to kill.”

Tim’s arms fall to his sides. Raylan looks up at him, seriously.

“I’m not a Marshal anymore,” Tim says, softly.

“Are you sure?”

Tim nods. And to prove it, he sits down on the bed next to Raylan, no longer looming over him.

“That’s better,” Raylan says, pressing the outside of his closest leg against Tim’s knee.

“I’m not asking as a Marshal,” Tim says, quietly and close to Raylan’s ear. “I’m asking as the other guy he wants to kill. I just want to know…”

“I didn’t tell him where we are,” Raylan interjects.

“I know that.” That wasn’t ever on Tim’s mind.

“I let him know that there’s a lot more the feds could find out about if he tries to catch up to us,” Raylan continues. “That’s all.”

Tim blinks at him, not following. Then it dawns on him. “You didn’t tell them something.”

“I told them everything prosecutable,” Raylan corrects him. “That was part of the deal and was made very clear to me.”

“What?” Tim asks. “What am I missing?”

“His money,” Raylan says, simply.

“Feds got something like five hundred thousand in cash-” Tim stops and thinks.”There’s more.”

Raylan nods.

“What’s to stop him from moving it?”

“The banker.”

“Friend of yours?” Tim asks.

“Businessman.” Raylan shrugs. “It’s not a permanent solution. But it’s more pressure than just the feds, which I guarantee you barely bother him, and it’s a reminder.”

“Reminder of what?”

“That he’s a professional with an income to protect and that’s ultimately much more important to him than killing us.”

“Is it, though?” It’s a genuine question. Everything Tim knows about Boyd is that he gets his way, and he gets away.

Raylan puts his hand on Tim’s knee. “For a while,” he says, hopefully. “Like I said, if nothing else, it’ll distract him while they move us. That’s good, right?”

Tim shrugs. “You could have told me what you were doing.”

“I thought that it was one of the forgiveness was better than permission things,” Raylan says.

“So you hid in the closet.”

“Not from you.” Raylan gestures outside at their distant protection. “From them.”

“Or you’re just really terrible at hiding,” Tim snaps.

Raylan reaches out and grabs him by the face, and Tim stops arguing and lets him start kissing. When they part, he sighs.

“Did you give the cherub down the hall a spanking when you took this?” He waves the phone.

“Earlier I was specifically told not to do that,” Raylan replies. “Also, I said you’d get pissed at me, not her.”

“Untrue,” Tim tells him. He tosses the phone up and catches it. “I should give this to the Marshals outside.”

“They’ll go through it and find someone made that call,” Raylan points out.

“Yeah,” Tim says. He pauses. “I’ll put it in the microwave.”

Raylan smiles. “Then give it back to Loretta. Let me do it. It’ll be fun.”

“You want to be bad cop?” Tim’s surprised.

“No one’s a cop anymore,” Raylan reminds him. He leans in to kiss Tim again. “Especially the guy who couldn’t figure out his kid in witness protection still had her damn phone.”

“That’s what you’re here for,” Tim whispers, before Raylan’s lips close around his.

~

They get to make love that night. The first calm, languid time Tim can remember. Nothing furtive or desperate, and they only have to be quiet out of consideration for Loretta and that their bodyguards might misinterpret the sounds.

It’s weird, but it’s wonderful.

The lack of urgency and danger doesn’t make it less hot. And hell, if it ever does, Tim can just imagine how pissed Boyd Crowder is about what they’re doing.

In the post-orgasmic haze, Tim lies there, spooned with Raylan against his back. He tries to wrap his mind around the fact that they’ll both still be there in the morning. And that they’ll go to wherever’s next, together.

He’s slipping off into sleep when the cat jumps up on the bed and settles between them. She curls up at head level.

“Mmph,” Raylan says. "I have cat in my mouth.”

“That’s her spot,” Tim says, not opening his eyes.

“That’s my spot,” Raylan corrects.

“Okay,” he says, and refuses to wake up.

 

 

~the end~

~This concludes the Timely series~

Comments Appreciated Muchly


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